Can Music Change How We Speak?

People often don’t believe when you tell them that the term “bucket list”—meaning a list of tasks that must be completed before death—was coined in The Bucket List, the 2007 Rob Reiner film starring Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman. Yes, “kick the bucket,” a euphemism for dying, goes back hundreds of years. But it took a buddy comedy to turn that euphemism into a morbid itinerary.

The origin of the word “stan,” or an extremely dedicated (and sometimes problematic) fan, often gets similar reactions. That’s just a portmanteau of “super” and “fan” or “stalker” and “fan,” right? Maybe. But you’d have to ask Eminem to confirm. The term was coined in “Stan,” the murderous masterpiece heard on his sophomore record, The Marshall Mathers LP.

When I was doing press for my book last year, people would often have questions about the subtitle, “What Numbers Tell Us about the Biggest Hit Songs and Ourselves.” Understanding the first part of that subtitle was easy. The book had myriad examples of what numbers tell us about “the biggest hit songs.” But the what-they-reveal-about-us part was less clear.

I think the origin of “stan” is a good example of what I was trying to get at in the second part of that title. The fact that we turned a character from an Eminem song into a common noun and a verb, reveals that we needed a word to describe crazed fandom of the 21st century. Songs, in short, not only have the ability to shape the way we think and act, but can point us to deeper trends.

I spent the last week digging through dictionaries to try to understand other ways that music has reshaped language. Below are some of the most interesting examples that I came across.

Please note that most listed definitions come from the Oxford English Dictionary. Additionally, the listed year is the first year the word was attested. It is possible that some of these circulated earlier before being documented.

As far as we know, these terms all originated in a specific song that you can go listen to right this very minute.

Shockingly, the term “grandfather clock” comes from composer Henry Clay Work’s 1876 song “My Grandfather’s Clock”:

My grandfather’s clock Was too large for the shelf, So it stood ninety years on the floor; It was taller by half Than the old man himself, Though it weighed not a pennyweight more. It was bought on the morn Of the day that he was born, And was always his treasure and pride; But it stopped short Never to go again, When the old man died.

Work was an ardent abolitionist, and much of his musical output was focused on the Union and its cause, like “Marching Through Georgia.” His earlier songs ended up being overshadowed by “My Grandfather’s Clock,” though. It was likely the best-selling song of the 1870s.

The laws that enforced racial segregation across the Southern United States throughout the 19th and 20th century were called “Jim Crow laws.” The name for this system emerged from “Jump Jim Crow,” an 1828 song written by noted blackface performer Thomas D. Rice.

In response to the surrender of Plevna during the Russo-Turkish War, a British musical hall song written by G. W. Hunt began to circulate. The chorus went as such:

We don’t want to fight but by Jingo if we do, We’ve got the ships, we’ve got the men, we’ve got the money too, We’ve fought the Bear before, and while we’re Britons true, The Russians shall not have Constantinople.

“By Jingo” was likely a euphemism for “by Jesus” that had evolved centuries earlier. The use in Hunt’s song transformed it and its variants into the pugnaciously patriotic word we know today. It also transformed Hunt’s name. Later in life, he was known as Jingo Hunt.

“Kum ba yah,” or alternatively “Come by here,” was an African-American spiritual that likely traces back to the enslaved Gullah people in 19th century South Carolina. The song was of great interest to 20th century folklorists, who eventually recorded it. By the 1960s, it had become a touchstone in the folk revival, which is where its association with unity emerged. Now, the phrase “sing kumbaya” is often used sarcastically.

The term “material girl” doesn’t get the same usage as “bucket list,” but I was equally surprised that it doesn’t predate the work of art it is most associated with. In this case, I’m talking about Madonna’s “Material Girl.” That song gave the phrase its accepted meaning.

The business-in-the-front, party-in-the-back hairstyle was coined in the Beastie Boys 1994 track “Mullet Head”:

#1 on the side and don’t touch the back #6 on the top and don’t cut it wack, Jack Mullet head

The song makes clear that the trio intended the term as an insult (i.e., “Never trusted, Mullet head”), thus likely connecting it to the older “mullet-head,” meaning a stupid person.

In 1911, labor activist Joe Hill was angry that various Christian groups, like the Salvation Army, were more concerned with what would happen to the poor in the next life than their present material needs. Hill, also a songwriter, decided to take the melody of the hymn “In the Sweet By-and-By” and write new lyrics:

You will eat bye and bye In that glorious land above the sky Work and pray, live on hay You’ll get pie in the sky when you die

His dessert-centered turn-of-phrase in “The Preacher and the Slave” came to stand for promises that were often unlikely to be kept. Four years later, Hill was controversially executed over murder accusations. He was later immortalized in “I Dreamed I Saw Joe Hill Last Night,” a folk song that Bob Dylan would take inspiration from on his 1967 album cut, “I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine.”

The prototypical American woman on the home front was created by Redd Evans and John Jacob Loeb in their 1942 song, “Rosie the Riveter”:

All the day long, whether rain or shine She’s a part of the assembly line She’s making history Working for victory Rosie, the riveter

Evans would eventually have a surprise hit in the rock era when Bobby Vinton got to number with his, “There! I’ve Said It Again.” “There! I’ve Said It Again” also has the honor of being the last number one hit before Beatlemania began.

A minstrel song from the 1860s whose writers remain in dispute, “Shoo Fly, Don’t Bother Me” birthed the exclamation of annoyance. These days the song is mostly sung by children.

The computing slang was likely inspired by the 1970 Monty Python sketch where Spam is served in every dish at a restaurant accompanied by a song mostly composed of that single word. Two decades later, the endless canned meat in that sketch became the perfect word to describe the endless flow of crap into our email inboxes.

“La Vie En Rose,” the signature song by French singer Édith Piaf, spawned the phrase capturing those with a romantic view of the world.

The Oscar-winning song “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” was initially written for the controversial Disney film, Song of the South. Though Disney historian Jim Korkis reports that the hyphenated word was coined by Walt Disney because of his enjoyment of other nonsense songs his company put out (e.g, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”, “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”), others think it was likely inspired by an earlier, racist folk song that was later reimagined as “Turkey in the Straw.” Some renditions of the racist version contain the Disney-esque refrain, “O zip a duden duden duden zip a duden day.”

Just as words evolve over time, it’s also interesting to see the same happen with songs. As noted, the melody of that racist song was reused in “Turkey in the Straw.” But it was also reused in another song, “Do Your Ears Hang Low?” That children’s song has been adapted by a few 21st century rappers. The most notable example is Jibbs’ 2006 top ten hit, “Chain Hang Low.”

Entire genres occasionally take their name from a lyric in—or title of—a song that is an example of a new style of music.

Though the phrase likely goes back a bit further, it was immortalized in the João Gilberto recording of the Jobim-Mendonça cowrite “Desafinado”: “Que isto é bossa nova, que isto é muito natural.”

The term “hip-hop” was a common call-and-response phrase used by early rappers. Because of that, it is impossible to pinpoint who the first to say it was. But Melle Mel, one member Grandmaster Flash’s Furious Five, alleged in a 2002 interview that Keith Wiggins, an early MC that went by Cowboy, originated the term by making fun of someone in the audience while he was performing:

This kid named Kokomo was going to the army and Cowboy was messing with him—teasing him with the marching hip-hop rhythm: Hip, hop, hip, hop. He just took it on from there and kept going with it. It just took on a life of its own.

If you were not kicking it in the Bronx in the 1970s, you likely were first exposed to the term on The Sugarhill Gang’s “Rapper’s Delight” when Wonder Mike raps, “I said a hip-hop, the hippie, the hippie / To the hip, hip-hop and you don’t stop the rockin'.”

The name for the popular Jamaican style of music was popularized in “Do the Reggay,” a 1968 song by Toots and the Maytals. Toots noted that the term was based on slang describing a person who is unclean or unkempt.

The traditional French song “J’ai fait tout le tour du pays” contained the refrain “Les haricots sont pas salés.” The “les haricots” part of that phrase slowly morphed into the term “zydeco,” which then became used to describe the style of the song.

Sometimes songs don’t create a word, but they do bring that word to a wider audience. These are words that belong in that group.

Though popularized by the Destiny’s Child song “Bootylicious,” the term circulated in years prior. Interestingly, the first musical use of the term was by Snoop Dogg on Dr. Dre’s “Fuck Wit Dre Day”: “Your bark was loud but your bite wasn’t vicious / And them rhymes you were kicking were quite bootylicious.” Snoop’s use of the word is not complimentary. In fact, he’s using it to mean bad, as in a variant of “your rhymes are ass.”

Even more interesting, when Snoop used the word again on his 2004 track “Step Yo Game Up,” he had adopted the more common post-Destiny’s Child usage: “‘Cause I’m tryin’ to find a bitch that’s bootylicious.”

Often thought to be derived from “to crank up” or a combination of “crazy” and “drunk,” “crunk” emerged as African-American slang before being immortalized in various hip-hop songs. The first lyrical mention was in Outkast’s 1993 single, “Player’s Ball”: “I gots it crunk, if it ain’t real, ain’t right.” The term would soon be associated with the southern genre popularized by Three 6 Mafia and Lil Jon.

Though “Rapper’s Delight” did not coin the term “hip-hop,” it likely had a hand in the proliferation of “def.” Right after Big Bank Hank raps the immortal “Hotel, motel, a whatcha gonna do today?” he continues, “Cause I’ma get a fly girl, gonna get some spank, and drive off in a def OJ.” In this case, a “def OJ” refers to a luxury car.

What’s funny is that lyric is almost always misprinted. It was originally written as “Cause I’ma get a fly girl, gonna get some spank, and drive off in a death OJ.” The lyric is trying to capture the same thing. But Big Bank Hank’s pronunciation helped birth a new word.

Though it likely circulated earlier, the term was popularized by jazz musician Larry Clinton’s 1937 song “The Dipsy Doodle,” which was recorded by Ella Fitzgerald, Tommy Dorsey, and Bill Haley, among others. Interestingly, Clinton claimed to have adapted the term from “dipsy doo,” a nickname for New York Giants pitcher Carl Hubbell’s looping curveball.

Though using the term “dixie” as shorthand for the Confederacy or the Southern United States predates any musical usage, it was really Dan Emmett’s 1859 composition that cemented the association.

Nearly all early usage of “dope” to mean “excellent” is traced to hip-hop songs. Allegedly, a 1981 recording of Jimmy Spicer’s “Money (Dollar Bill Y’All)” used the word, but the more widely circulated 1983 version does not.

That said, Salt-N-Pepa’s 1986 song “It’s Alright” d